


Letters

by CyberMum, fmlyhntr, jamelia116, juli17ptf, Penny_P, Rocky_T, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 05:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19202497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberMum/pseuds/CyberMum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmlyhntr/pseuds/fmlyhntr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/juli17ptf/pseuds/juli17ptf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: It's time for the next data stream transmission, and the crew has lots of news to send to family, friends . . . and a few others . . . living in the Alpha Quadrant.





	1. Teaser/Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of several "compilation" episodes, in which several of our writers shared writing duties. We all wish to thank Rick and Andra for their contributions to this piece, but most importantly, to CyberMum, who compiled the stories and bridges to turn a collection of letters into a coherent episode. Thanks so much to all of you!

Prologue  
  
It happened once a month, in a pattern established nearly a year earlier; the  
atmosphere on Voyager underwent an abrupt change, and a sense of fervent  
expectancy gripped the crew. Duties were still performed as usual, orders given  
and followed, briefings attended, reports filed and logs recorded. Off-duty  
companionship in various forms was sought and shared, holodeck scenarios played  
out, parties to commemorate birthdays, holidays, and other special events  
planned, talent nights and sporting competitions arranged, and bets placed on  
everything from which department would rank highest in Seven's next unannounced  
efficiency survey, to who would win the current week's pool or velocity  
tournament. But, superimposed upon it all, a new focus emerged as the moment  
approached when the datastream window would open and letters would again be  
exchanged with those back home in the Alpha quadrant.  
  
The increased level of anticipation and purpose always took hold a day or two  
before that moment. The crew in various numbers retreated to quarters, or sat  
with a cup of coffee or tea in a quiet corner of the mess hall, or found a  
comfortable chair at one of the observation windows with a view of the vast  
expanse of space that still separated them from old friends and family. Then,  
PADD or pen in hand, they composed the letters they would be sending home, or  
added finishing touches to letters they'd been preparing since the last  
datastream transmission.  
  
Once finished, those letters were gathered and transformed into data bits ready  
to be transmitted through the datastream. After the transmission was completed,  
and the incoming data was received and decoded, the letters that had come over  
twenty-five thousand light years in the opposite direction to Voyager were  
distributed among the crew. The element of delay was always present-the  
incoming letters responding to the news, gossip, personal revelations and  
requests contained in the crew's letters from the previous month's  
transmissions-but each and every missive was enthusiastically welcomed  
nonetheless.  
  
The letters were read and reread, and filed away to be answered in turn in the  
next month's outgoing letters. Then the crew returned full attention to their  
duties and lives on Voyager, until the moment approached when communication  
would be reestablished once more.  
  
That moment was again at hand.  
  
\--------------  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue written by juli17ptf


	2. Harry, Chakotay, Kathryn

  
Harry looked up from the PADD he was working on with a shake of his head. Tom  
would kill him for missing tonight's 400 meter relay practice, but he really  
wanted to finish this letter. His mother's last letter had, again, asked about  
his love life. He chuckled. What was it about parents and grandchildren-or in  
his case, the lack of a girlfriend and no grandchildren?  
  
He again wondered just what B'Elanna was up to. She'd managed to convince  
Janeway she needed to use the bulk of the data stream transfer to the Alpha  
Quadrant. And it had been his turn to send a video letter. Next time.

  
  
From: Ensign Harry Kim,  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Mr. & Mrs. John Kim  
Router Heading: Sector 004; Monterey; California  
119847621  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Personal and Confidential  
  
Dear Mom and Dad,  
Sorry that I can't talk to you in person this month. I know that you were looking forward to it. Unfortunately, Captain Janeway made an announcement earlier today telling us that we would have to record letters this month due to a data exchange with Starfleet Command that would be taking up most of the time allotted for data transmission. The entire crew, including the Captain herself, is to write letters instead.  
  
So where did we leave off last time? Hmm... Oh right, you were asking if I had a girlfriend. Well to be totally honest, no. For a while I was dating one of the Delaney sisters. Megan Delaney, actually. And then I did date Susan Nicoletti, but nothing ever came of that.  
  
So after 6 years out here on Voyager I'm still a bachelor. Tom teases me every now and then about having developed a crush on Seven, but the truth is that I just really admire her. She is so intelligent, and she is able to solve all sorts of problems in ways that no one else would even think of.  
  
Okay, so maybe I do still have a little bit of a crush on her, but really, who wouldn't.  
  
Besides, Mom, you always told me to go for the best, and Seven is definitely one of the best on board this ship. I know what you're going to say about her being a Borg and all.. but she's had several chances to rejoin the collective, and aside from one or two early attempts that failed, she has never decided to go back.  
  
You don't have to tell me... I already know. I'm hopeless. I'm always putting my heart out there to the wrong girl. Isn't that what you're going to say, Dad? And maybe you are right. Maybe I am always putting my heart out there for the wrong girl. Sometimes I wonder if I should be putting my heart out there at all. But then I get lonely out here too, and if you don't have something to take your mind off of it, a 25 year journey home can sure seem like a long way.  
  
This is, I guess, as good as anywhere. Who told you I did what? Please Mom and Dad, don't believe everything the rumor mill tells you. I have no idea where this one even got started, but I have not been trying to sleep with every women on this ship. Sorry, I didn't mean to be so blunt, but I can't have you believing me capable of this. Now Tom-before he was married that is-might have tried. And I've heard Hugh (you remember Hugh-he used to date Libby's cousin, Teresa) and Jack have made a pretty good attempt at... I see I'm just as guilty as the person who started the rumor that worried you.  
  
Well, I've got to get going. I have a duty shift on the bridge in ten minutes. Give my love to the family - oh, and please don't forget to give some envelopes to the cousins for me. I've made arrangements with Starfleet to credit your account with some of my acquired pay. I'd also like you to buy Libby something for her wedding. Thanks for telling me-I'd hoped she found someone else.  
  
  
Your son, Harry  
  
  
PS I'm still an ensign. If everyone received the promotions we deserve; we'd be a ship full of Admirals and nothing would get done.

 

\-------------------------

  
All was quiet on the bridge. Janeway was sequestered in her Ready Room sifting  
through her latest round of reports, while Tuvok was in the holodeck making  
adjustments to his latest training program. Harry was in Astrometrics enlisting  
Seven's help on a project he was working on, and Tom was spending quality time  
with his wife. Their monthly correspondence with Earth had improved the morale  
of the crew immensely, the bits of news and personal data they received making  
them feel a bit closer to their loved ones. Chakotay himself had been  
corresponding with his cousin in Ohio, and the latest letter had included a  
miraculous surprise: his younger sister Maya had not only survived the  
extermination of the Maquis, but was alive and well on their home world. The  
news had filled him with joy, bringing to mind memories of summers spent getting  
into mischief with friends while a worshipful Maya shadowed his every move. She  
had been a constant light in his life since the day at five years old he had  
looked into her tiny infant face and proclaimed her to be his personal ray of  
sunshine.  
  
Hearing the doors open behind him, Chakotay glanced over his shoulder and saw  
Tuvok walk onto the bridge. "Finished tweaking your training program?" he  
prompted.  
  
"Yes," Tuvok confirmed. "I believe the upgrades I have implemented will  
substantially increase the efficiency of the training exercises."  
  
The XO hid a smile. "I'm glad to hear it," he said, and rose to his feet. "Well  
everything seems to be status quo, so I'm going to leave the bridge in your  
capable hands and take care of some personal business. The captain's in her  
Ready Room, but shouldn't be disturbed unless there's an emergency."  
  
"Aye, Commander."  
  
Relinquishing command to Tuvok, Chakotay made his way to his quarters. After  
replicating himself a mug of spice tea, he grabbed a data PADD and settled on  
the couch. His letter for this month was for his sister, an attempt to put into  
words what had transpired over the last six years of his life.

  
\------

  
From: Chakotay,  
First Officer, U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Maya Lupes  
CMO Dorvan Medical Center  
Router Heading: Sector 047; Dorvan V Colony  
276478341  
Stardate 54382.4  
Personal and Confidential  
  
Dearest Maya -  
  
Hello, Little Sister. I was relieved and delighted when I received Teren's message in the last data stream that you are alive and well. After hearing of the slaughter of the Maquis, I was afraid to hope that you had somehow managed to survive. But you were always Father's favorite, so perhaps he watched over you during those difficult times.  
  
Congratulations on your marriage; I'm certain your Esteban is an honorable man. Teren tells me that he is from our mother's home planet Trebus, and shares your gift for healing. I hope one day I will have the pleasure of welcoming him to the family in person. And if the Spirits are willing, you will begin another generation to carry on your work.  
  
Have I told you how proud I am that you are a doctor? You had mentioned years ago wanting to find a way to undo the damage done to Dorvan V by the Cardassians. Your ultimate goal was to return home and rebuild the colony. Given the destruction of our home world, I did not think there would be anything to return to. But your descriptions of the efforts to rebuild Dorvan V are certainly encouraging. The new villages being created and the growing population would seem to indicate that our people may yet rise from the ashes and restore the life that was stolen from us by the Cardassians.  
  
I can only imagine the questions you have about what transpired six years ago, and how I wound up on a Federation starship in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps the simplest way to tell the tale would be to start at the beginning.  
  
By now you have most certainly heard the story of the mysterious disappearance in the Badlands of both my vessel the Freedom as well as Voyager. Of all the outcomes I imagined for my fate in the Maquis, being transported to the opposite end of the galaxy by an unknown alien was not among them. The Sky Spirits must have been on my side that day, however, as aside from some minor damage to the ship and a slightly battered crew, I escaped the transport with no casualties.  
  
Unfortunately, Voyager's crew was not as lucky, and almost a third of the officers on board were killed in the transition from the Alpha Quadrant. It was this loss that prompted Captain Janeway to make the decision to integrate the Maquis into her crew. My surprise at her offer to join our crews was only surpassed when she requested that I accept the position of her First Officer. With the lack of alternatives, I agreed. I had sacrificed my own ship to protect Voyager, and spending my time on the bridge of a Federation ship was certainly preferable to spending it in the brig.  
  
It wasn't easy at first, for any of us. The Maquis were resentful at having to wear uniforms that represented everything we had been fighting against, and the Starfleet personnel were  mourning the loss of their crewmates. There was suspicion and mistrust; nerves were frayed and tempers flared. And Captain Janeway and I were having difficulty getting past the issues of "your crew vs. my crew" when protocol issues arose. But as time passed, we gradually began to put the past behind us and pose a united front for the crew. Eventually a friendship grew from our forced professional alliance, and it has grown into the most amazing relationship I have ever known.  
  
It's hard to describe my feelings for Kathryn. From enemies to allies and now best friends, she and I have had more than our fair share of hurdles to overcome. I respect her more than anyone I've ever known. She's intelligent, brave, inquisitive and beautiful. She has made me alternately both the happiest and angriest I have ever been, and I have never regretted my decision to follow her. And yes, I was in love with her, for a time. On some level I still am, but it has changed over the years, as have Kathryn and I. Blind adoration has tempered into silent appreciation and deep affection, a more mature type of emotion than the near worship I initially felt. A little older and a great deal wiser, I understand now that an intimate relationship with Kathryn would not have survived some of the storms we have weathered. Yet I am honest enough to admit that I still hold onto the hope that the end of this journey through the Delta Quadrant will bring the beginning of our journey together through the rest of our lives. And given her recent actions, perhaps it is a hope that Kathryn shares as well. Only time will tell.  
  
Along with Kathryn, the crew is full of many fascinating characters, many of whom I am pleased to call friends.  
B'Elanna Torres is our Chief Engineer, and is married to our best pilot, Tom Paris. On the surface they go together about as well as oil and water - she's got the temper of her half Klingon heritage and he treats life as a game only he can play - but somehow they've managed to build strong foundation for their future.  
  
Tuvok is our Chief of Security; a typical stoic Vulcan on the outside, but as loyal and honest as anyone I've ever known on the inside. Our Chief Medical Officer is actually a hologram, yet he's sentient and has a zest for life matched by few flesh and blood beings. Speaking of which, he apparently has developed feelings for our resident former Borg drone, an attractive young woman named Annika Hansen, who prefers to be addressed by her Borg designation Seven of Nine.  
  
Neelix is our resident 'court jester' and morale officer. He's a member of a species called Talaxians - not much to look at but he has the biggest heart you could ever hope to encounter.  
  
And of course, there's Harry Kim – Ops officer and eternal optimist. He started out as green as grass, but his experiences on Voyager are shaping him into an excellent officer.  
  
Well, duty calls, so I have to go. I pray that this letter finds all well with you and yours. My thoughts are with you.  
  
  
Chakotay

  
  
\-----  
  
Kathryn Janeway set the last PADD down on her desk and settled comfortably back  
into her chair. It had been a good session. Each department report had been  
read, commented upon and approved. It had taken a little less than three hours  
to go through this week's pile and that included a conference link with Neelix  
in the mess hall and Ensign Chell in security. It seemed that the Bolian had  
some imaginative ideas about the opening ceremonies of the upcoming Delta  
Quadrant Olympics he wanted to share with Voyager's morale officer and  
co-incidentally, one of the co-chairs of the event. Neelix, initially wary, had  
been convinced to give the Ensign a chance to prove himself, and indeed had  
become quite enthusiastic at the prospect of working with another 'creative  
spirit'. Janeway grinned. She wondered whether she should look forward to the  
Olympics or dread them. She had managed to convince the enthusiastic Talaxian  
that a marathon biathlon was out of the question, especially for his commanding  
officer. But she still wasn't sure about what he would come up with in its  
place.  
  
She had one more task left, but this one was not onerous at all. Janeway pushed  
herself away from her desk, stood up and walked across her ready room.  
  
"Coffee, Janeway, special." She directed the replicator, and couldn't suppress a  
satisfied smile when the mug of steaming liquid materialized before her. "That's  
more like it," she told the machine. She picked up the cup, headed towards her  
sofa and sat down. From an antique wooden secretary on the table next to her she  
removed some heavy stationary and a pen. The box had set her back one week's  
replicator rations, but she didn't regret the expense for a moment. She arranged  
herself comfortably on the couch, propped the box carefully on her knees and  
arranged the paper on its top.

  
  
  
From: Captain Kathryn M. Janeway,  
Commanding Officer, U.S.  
NCC-74656  
To: Mrs. Phoebe J. Robbins  
Router heading: Sector 001; Earth; Indiana;  
187115957  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Personal and Confidential  
  
Dear Phoebe,  
  
I know it's been a while since I've written. As you'd expect, I've been busy . . . with everything, and with nothing. It's hard to describe the rhythm of daily life on board a ship, something I haven't attempted to do since my first posting as an ensign more years ago now than I care to remember. But Voyager is at once the same and yet very different from every other vessel I've ever been on.  
  
We travel through space in our little insular community, concerned with the doings of just 150 odd individuals. Despite the monthly datastream that Starfleet sends us we're still so isolated. I still find it incredible that an entire quadrant-enveloping war has swept through and left downtrodden empires and new regimes in its wake while we ourselves have experienced none of it. If you had asked me seven years ago what the next war facing the Federation would entail, I may have guessed at the unstable Cardassian alliance as being a flash point, but not to the extent of what this war eventually became. The Dominion, the Breen . . . one just a mysterious rumor from the Gamma quadrant, the other a power closer to home that we never quite understood. And to envision the Romulan Star Empire fighting alongside the Federation-what a strange new world we're going to find ourselves in one day.  
  
And who knows how long or far off that day is going to be. The vast distances separating us from the Alpha Quadrant never quite seemed real, at least in the beginning. I think for the first couple of years, in between staving off disaster, we kept expecting to suddenly fall into a wormhole which would end up leaving us within a stone's throw of Earth, or else encounter some amazingly advanced beings who'd send us home in the blink of an eye. Nice fantasies, but not very practical. Especially the latter-though I've met Q and I will say he is indeed as capricious, and as dangerous to trust, as all the early reports made him out to be. No, we no longer put our faith in false gods but rather look to our own strengths and abilities instead.  
  
In nearly seven years of journeying, we've managed to cover half the distance from the Ocampan homeworld where the Caretaker's energy beam deposited us. Some of it has been by luck, or chance, but we have managed to make purposeful progress on our own. I don't think it's going to take another 25 to 30 years- perhaps another decade or two at most is the most recent prediction, and in my more unguarded moments there are times that I actually believe it myself.  
  
But why am I boring you with these late night ramblings? There's something about the old-fashioned construct of putting pen to paper-don't laugh, though you are undoubtedly snickering at my expense reading this, remembering the older sister who couldn't be bothered with her family's Traditionalist customs and habits. Would you be surprised to hear that over the years there has been more than one occasion I've written my captain's log in such a primitive fashion? There's just something about the permanence of such a medium that helps me to stay connected to my humanity. Especially at times when it's been put to the test.  
  
I had one such experience not too long ago, when we had a rather unexpected encounter with a Cardassian warship. Without breaching any security clearances I can tell you it was an old style vessel, obviously pulled in by the Caretaker a good 30 years earlier, right around the time of the Nyakkan Conference. I know that name has some significance for you. One of the last conferences attended by Admiral Edward Janeway, and irony of ironies, the Cardassian Gul was familiar with Dad-and our family as well. He actually asked me, "Are you the scholar or the hellion?" Humph.  
  
Maybe if I'd staked my claim as being the hellion the outcome would have been a little different...Lest you think it was a pleasant reunion, think again. It's not that no one ever told these Cardassians that the war was over; rather they reacted as you would expect someone in their isolated and desperate position to behave, and I allowed sentiment to cloud my initial judgment. But all's well that ends well, right? I'm safe and sound, with the exception of another molar I really had no need for anyway, and perhaps one day my first officer and chief of security will stop blaming themselves.  
  
Anyway. How are you doing? The pictures from Kathy's birthday party last month were wonderful. She's a beautiful little girl, Phoebe. I know you say she looks like me, but she's got Mom's eyes. I'm glad she liked the Flotter doll. You sounded nervous-what'd you think I was going to do, buy my three year old niece a Starfleet class astral analyzer? Give me some credit. She has to be at least six before she could even lift one of those.  
  
I'm just glancing over your last letter to me -good grief, Phoebe, you never were one to mince words, let alone now that I'm a good 28,000 light years away. As I've told you previously, I'm the captain of the ship. They look to me to set the tone, the direction, to make sure that things are running smoothly.  
  
Of course I have friends! What do you think, I spend each evening alone in my cabin looking at old holoimages? Honestly. This goes back to what I was saying earlier, about the type of community we've forged here aboard Voyager. I don't think I've ever felt more connected to the people I've served with...Any personal involvement of the kind you keep hinting at, however, dear sister, is not feasible precisely because of the responsibilities I have now. But please believe me when I say my life is still busy and fulfilling, if a little lacking in some of the other things at the moment. But as Mom always used to say, we can't always get what we want; but if we're lucky we just might find what we need.  
  
I'm getting toward the end of my space allotment. My chief engineer has co-opted the major portion of this month's datastream allocation. Tell Mom I won't have a chance to write her till next month. And please reassure her for me that I'm as well as can be expected and am doing my damnedest to get home soon.  
  
All my love,  
  
Kathryn  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fmlyhntr with Rick (Harry Kim's letter to his parents)  
> Andra (Chakotay's letter tohis sister Maya)  
> Rocky (Kathryn Janeway's letter to her sister Phoebe)


	3. The Doctor, the Pilot, the Cook, and Seven

  
"Two! Only two!" wailed the EMH.  
  
"I'm sorry, Doctor. That's the rule. Two per person this month. We've got a big  
tech transmission going out to the engineers at Starfleet Command, so there's  
not much room for other messages."  
  
"But it's critical that my letters go out this month, Ensign Kim!"  
  
"Well, I can check with the captain, I guess. How many do you have to send?"  
  
"Only twelve."  
  
"TWELVE! You've got twelve letters to send to the Alpha Quadrant?"  
  
"They're very short, Ensign."  
  
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't know he knew twelve people to write  
to," he muttered under his breath, as he tapped his comm badge. "Kim to Janeway.”  
  
The Doctor sniffed archly, but he was confident that Harry would obtain the  
captain's permission for him to send his letters. He was stunned when he heard  
Janeway's decision.  
  
"Five! That's all? Only five?"  
  
"That's three more than anybody else is going to get. Where are they going, anyway?"  
  
"Earth. Mars. All sorts of places. Are you sure you can't . . ."  
  
"Pick the five most important to send out now, Doc. That's all I can do. Send  
the rest next month."  
  
Grumbling, the Doctor struggled for a while, but he finally managed to choose  
the five most likely to produce the desired results.  
  
\--  
  
From: EMH  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;  
To: Mr. Jameson Whitfield-Wilson-Jones  
Flights of Fancy, Ltd.  
7147 Piccadilly Circus  
London, England, British Isles WK9L54  
Terra  
  
Dear Mr. Whitfield-Wilson-Jones,  
  
In response to your recent advertisement in the cyberzine "Holographic Adventurer," I wish to offer your company the opportunity to purchase a work of stunning creativity and importance. In my travels as the Chief Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.  
  
This holoprogram is designed to educate, edify, and enrich the spirit of humanoid and holographic beings throughout the Alpha Quadrant. It cannot fail to please you and your program users.  
If you are interested in obtaining more information about this program prior to making an offer, feel free to contact me in care of U.S.S. Voyager, c/o Pathfinder Project, Starfleet Command, San Francisco, California, 94103-4774-5437, Terra. Thank you for your consideration.  
  
Very truly yours,  
  
Emergency Medical Hologram, U.S.S. Voyager-NCC-74656  
\--  
  
Seven is in good form today. The thought came to Janeway as the velocity ball  
ricocheted off of two walls and almost got past her again. Kathryn could feel a  
bead of sweat trickle down her temple as she stepped to the left and extended  
her racquet as far as possible, barely maintaining control of the return.  
  
Seven's own hair was slightly disheveled, but she till managed to converse while  
playing. This was "their time" as Janeway put it, and Seven valued the specified  
time to delve into questions that might be uncomfortable if asked in public.  
Even after so much time on Voyager, Seven still struggled occasionally with the  
social situations on ship.  
  
"Captain, I was wondering," she hit the ball, "what is the purpose of sending  
letters to the alpha quadrant every month?  
  
Janeway caught the ball on her racquet after the first ricochet and returned it.  
  
"Support."  
  
Seven returned the ball again, "You require support? Are you tired?"  
  
It was because Seven had started towards Janeway to assist her that she did not  
see the fast moving velocity ball angling for her. So when it bounced squarely off  
of her temple, it nearly knocked Seven completely off of her feet.  
  
Janeway moved quickly to keep Seven upright.  
"No, we send letters home for emotional support."  
  
As Seven steadied herself, Janeway released her. "You have spoken many times  
about the closeness felt by your crew. Do you not have sufficient emotional  
support among them?"  
  
Janeway paused to consider this. It was true. Her crew were probably as close as  
any crew in the fleet could be. Their survival required them to be  
interdependent. So then why did they jump at the chance to talk to the people  
back home? "I suppose we turn to different people for different types of  
support. Not everyone is equally adept at handling every issue. The people back  
home fill in the gaps for us that the crew out here has been unable to fill.  
Despite everything this crew has been through out here, there are some common  
experiences that many people only share with few others. Those are the people we  
keep close to us, and who we turn to in times of specific need."  
  
"Perhaps that is why I have not desired to communicate more with the alpha  
quadrant. I lack common experiences with the people there."  
  
"Maybe," Janeway agreed. "But maybe you just haven't thought about it enough.  
There are certainly people in the alpha quadrant with whom you share the bond of  
family, or perhaps the intellectually gifted. Give it some thought, Seven. We  
still have a few hours before the transmission goes out."  
  
"I will."  
  
Janeway handed Seven the velocity ball pointedly. "It's your serve."  
  
  
From: Seven of Nine,  
Civilian Adjunct, U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Captain Jean-Luc Picard,  
U.S.S. Enterprise-E  
Router: Alpha Quadrant, Sector 001, Earth, Starfleet  
HQ, APO Forward  
118747351  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Dear Captain Picard,  
  
Although we have not been introduced, we have met, in a manner of speaking. At that time, your designation was Locutus and mine was Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One.  I was in the Collective mind with you. Since that time, I have been severed from the Collective and restored to individuality, as you have been. Currently I am a member of the crew of USS Voyager under Captain Janeway in the Delta Quadrant.  
  
I tell you this to explain my reason for writing to you. To my knowledge, there is no other Human who has returned to individuality following full assimilation. Even Captain Janeway was subjected to only partial assimilation and, in any event, her experience is not relevant to my purpose. I write to ask for your candid assessment of how I would be accepted if Voyager returned to Earth in the immediate future.  
  
It is true that the ship remains approximately twenty-eight thousand light years from Earth. However, now that regular communication with Starfleet has been established, many in the crew believe that we will find a way to reduce the time typically needed for that journey. If so, we will return to a world in which memories of Borg assaults are still fresh. Wolf 359 was only twelve years ago and there was a direct assault on Earth only five years ago. I had hoped that by the time we arrived, these events would have faded into the past. It now seems I must consider other possibilities, and I wish to be prepared.  
  
My association with the Borg is easily discerned by the remaining external implants visible in several places on my body. I was assimilated as a small child and as a result some Borg components have become integral to my physical being. Voyager's Doctor, who is both skilled and resourceful, has successfully removed 87% of the cybernetics added through assimilation, but the remaining 13% are necessary to sustain me. It is for this reason that I continue to use the designation Seven of Nine; I am no longer truly Borg, but neither am I truly Human.  
  
My question is not posed lightly. When I first came aboard Voyager, a few of the crew accepted me without fear;  most, however, viewed me with suspicion and mistrust. With time and close association I have overcome that antipathy. I believe I can regard Voyager as a microcosm of Federation society, and that upon our return a similar reaction will occur: a few will accept me as an individual but the majority will consider me an enemy. Unlike Voyager, I will not have the luxury of time and close association to change their minds.  
  
I was content with this conclusion until a few months ago, when it was suggested to me that I may be viewed as a symbol of hope to those who have lost family to assimilation. For a time I drew comfort from that thought, but then I realized it is contradictory to what I have already experienced. I must admit, I am confused. Captain Janeway has been my mentor but circumstances dictate that she cannot know the current attitudes in the Alpha Quadrant. Also, I suspect she would "sugar coat" her answer to spare me emotional turmoil.  
  
I do not wish to be spared; I wish only an honest assessment so that I can plan my future accordingly. You are, I believe, the only person in a position to respond to my question with a knowledgeable and candid answer.  
  
Thank you for your attention. I look forward to hearing from you.  
  
  
Sincerely,  
Seven of Nine  
  
  
\--  
  
From: EMH/ECH  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;  
To: Ms. Colleen Murphy O'Hanlon  
Holographic Adventures Unlimited, Inc.  
7777 Lakeside Avenue  
Suite 44-C  
Cleveland, Ohio 44144-4477-5001  
Terra  
  
My Dearest Ms. O'Hanlon,  
  
In response to your recent advertisement in the cyberzine "Holographic Adventurer," I wish to offer your company the opportunity to purchase a work of stunning creativity and importance. In my travels as the Chief Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.  
  
This holoprogram is designed to educate, edify, and enrich the spirit of humanoid and holographic beings throughout the Alpha Quadrant. It cannot fail to please you and your program users.  
  
If you are interested in obtaining more information about this program prior to making an offer, feel free to contact me in care of U.S.S. Voyager, c/o Pathfinder Project, Starfleet Command, San Francisco, California, 94103-4774-5437, Terra. Thank you for your consideration.  
  
Very truly yours,  
Emergency Medical Hologram  
U.S.S. Voyager-NCC-74656  
  
\-----  
  
  
Tom Paris sat in the farthest corner of the mess hall nursing a rapidly cooling  
cup of hot chocolate. The room was empty - the last dinner shift long over - and  
Neelix was nowhere in evidence. B'Elanna was still in engineering. She'd warned  
him she was going to be late. He knew she was working on something big, but so  
far she hadn't elected to share whatever it was with him. And amazingly enough,  
he realized, although he was very curious to know what it was, he was willing to  
wait for her to tell him. Just a few months ago he would have been all over her  
to reveal, tell, spill or at least give him a hint. Things were so different  
now. He was... he thought about it for a moment... he was relaxed. And he  
trusted her. And, most importantly, she trusted him. He started to write:  
  
From: Lieutenant j.g. Tom Paris  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Dr. Gregory Paul Andersen  
Router Heading: Sector 010 Christchurch, NZ  
127764729  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Dear Dr. Andersen,  
  
You were absolutely right (as usual). Your letter was a total surprise-but a very pleasant one. Of all the people I had the "opportunity" to meet at Auckland, you're about the only one I would want to hear from right now.  
  
I had a really bad moment when I first opened the file and saw your name, you know. I remembered you chaired the Outmate Review Committee. My first thought was that the committee had gotten tired of waiting for me to get back home to the Alpha Quadrant. You'd decided to do my review in absentia and ordered me to spend the rest of the trip in the brig for overstaying my parole. I know, I know. Just another case of Tom Paris expecting the worst. I'm sure you've got a whole bunch of exotic theories about why I thought that, but I think we both know the main reason. Anyway, I was relieved when I read your letter and found out the real reason you wrote.  
  
(Congratulations on your retirement, by the way. I hope your new private practice works out well for you. Say hello to the missus for me. I'm pretty sure anything has to be better than being the Director of Psychologists for a Federation Rehabilitation Colony, but I understand that Christchurch is a beautiful place to live.)  
  
I can just see you nodding your head and saying, "Get back on track, Tom! Stop running away from the subject! Meet it head on." So, I'll answer your question. Yes, I really am doing as well as the newsvids say I am.  
  
I'm sure you can appreciate the irony. I'm at the lowest point of my life. Screwed up my career, my family life, everything. Everyone I'd ever cared about was out of my life. Then I'm told I can take a mission that, at best, will get me a "good word" when I want to get out of prison, and then I'm back out there drifting again. I get lost 70,000 light years from home-and everything turns around. I get my career back. Get the girl of my dreams. Who would believe it? Maybe you're right. I had to hit bottom before I could finally figure out how it all works. The only down side is that I'm heading back to where I was a total screw-up. Everybody on this ship wants to get home-except me.  
  
Well, maybe not everybody. My wife couldn't care less either. I know you've seen her picture in the media. (I can't believe our wedding was the second story on the newsvids the day the news came through on the data stream, right after the President's State of the Federation message!) She's gorgeous, isn't she? And just as smart and sharp as she is beautiful. She keeps me on my toes, that's for sure. I'm sure you'd have a field day analyzing our relationship. I know half the people on this ship love to play that game. I'll let you in on a little secret though. We were meant for each other. We're just lucky both of us managed to get lost in space at the same time and in the same place. I don't even want to think about how terrible this voyage home would be without her.  
  
I have to thank you for a lot, Doc. You kept hammering away at me to drop the cynical con bit. You always said that inside me was a good guy and a good officer, trying to hide himself away to keep from getting hurt. It wasn't easy, even out here, where I didn't have to worry about the old man hanging over everything I did and trying to micromanage my career. I tried to sabotage myself plenty of times out here, too, but this time, I didn't do it. Not permanently, anyway. B'Elanna wouldn't let me, and neither would the captain.  
  
One thing about your letter didn't surprise me, Doc. I'm not shocked about your little conversation with Captain Janeway at Auckland. The truth is, she told me all about it herself, a little while ago.  
  
I don't know how much I can tell you about our missions; I know some have been stamped "Top Secret." This one time, though, I don't think is any big deal. Our security officer, the EMH, and yours truly crash landed onto a planet inside this weird spatial anomaly. Time didn't run the same way there, but we didn't know that at the time. We thought we'd been there for months and that Voyager had long since left us behind. The captain isn't one to give up easy, though, and we were rescued. It turns out we were only gone a couple of days. There wasn't any big welcome home for us when came back-we hadn't been away all that long as far as everyone on the ship went, even though Commander Tuvok and I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives on a planet where the big item on the menu was spiders-morning, noon, and night-broiled, sautéed, or in the raw.  
  
I was feeling pretty down that everyone else treated it as business as usual. That was the time the captain had busted me back down to ensign, too-and yes, I did deserve it-that old anti-authority thing of mine again-but that's another story. Anyway, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself when the captain called me into her Ready Room to talk it over. She told me I'd done a good job (even though there wasn't a promotion in sight for me yet). She'd always known I had it in me, she said.  
  
And that's when she told me about what you'd said to her at your meeting that day at the penal colony. She thought she'd come on a fool's errand. Everyone at Starfleet Command insisted I was a worthless, spoiled 'Fleet brat' who destroyed everything he touched, but she'd come to see me because she didn't have any other options. She figured she'd check me out, decide I wasn't worth bothering with, and then go on her way with a clear conscience, knowing that she'd done her best to get my help.  
  
But she talked to you first. You told her that I may have lost my way, but I had the potential to do great things, as long as someone truly believed in me and left me alone long enough to realize I could do them. That you had a really strong hunch this was just the thing I needed to show the stuff I was made of. And you warned her about my attitude, because it wasn't the real me. So when she met me, she saw right through my act and offered me the mission that changed my life. In a very real way, I have you to thank for my being on Voyager, and for becoming an officer again, and for my happiness with my wife. So, this is it. I'm very grateful, Doc.  
  
About after we get home-I'm not even thinking that far ahead yet. Ten, maybe twenty years from now sounds soon enough for me. Then I might not even have to think about whether Starfleet would want me to stay or not. I could call it a career. I'm not sure I'd want to stick around.  
  
B'Elanna and I have been talking about having a family. It's not going to happen any time soon, we know. That human-Klingon fertility incompatibility factor isn't likely to go away on its own, so we're not counting on the patter of tiny feet right now. We've talked it over, though, and as long as we're on Voyager, there wouldn't be any problem if we did have a baby. We'd be on board the ship with our "family" all around us. Everyone here would be the kid's aunts and uncles. For all the dangers the Delta Quadrant holds, it would be worth it.  
  
Once we got home, that would all change. A decade ago, serving as a family on board a starship was routine. I understand that since the Dominion War it's not that way anymore. One thing I don't want to be is one of those Starfleet dads who blows home once every year or two, spends six weeks smothering his family with all the advice and "fatherly guidance" he can squeeze into one visit, and expects to make up for all the time he'll be away for his next tour that way. I know how that goes. No matter how hard he tries, it doesn't work out. A kid needs his father around more than that. So, if I can't have my family on board a Starfleet vessel with me, I'm not planning on going on any Starfleet vessels at all.  
  
You know, I promised myself that I was just going to write you a short answer to your letter-say thanks, I'm grateful to you for all you've done-thanks for writing-and that would be it. Instead, I've written a book. How do you do that? You always could get me to run off at the mouth and say things I never expected to tell anybody in the galaxy, let alone a counselor. You haven't lost your touch. You must be pretty good at what you do, huh? I probably should delete most of this stuff and keep it simple. Say the right thing-blah, blah, blah, thanks for writing. But I'm not going to do that. I owe a lot to you, Doc. Being honest with you here is the least I can do.  
  
Thanks, Doc. Thanks for everything,  
  
Tom Paris, Lieutenant j.g.  
  
\--  
  
From: EMH/ECH  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;  
Mars Relay 23-B  
To: Miss Valentina DesRosiers DeLaVarese  
FarAway Times and Places  
45 Green Flash Way  
Canal City, Mars 1R83  
  
My Dear Miss DeLaVarese (lovely name, by the way),  
  
In response to your recent advertisement in the cyberzine "Holographic Adventurer," I wish to offer your company the opportunity to purchase a work of stunning creativity and importance. In my travels as the Chief Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.  
  
This holoprogram is designed to educate, edify, and enrich the spirit of humanoid and holographic beings throughout the Alpha Quadrant. It cannot fail to please you and your program users.  
  
If you are interested in obtaining more information about this program prior to making an offer, feel free to contact me in care of U.S.S. Voyager, c/o Pathfinder Project, Starfleet Command, San Francisco, California, 94103-4774-5437, Terra. Thank you for your very kind consideration.  
Very truly yours,  
Emergency Medical Hologram  
U.S.S. Voyager-NCC-74656  
  
\--  
  
Neelix glanced surreptitiously at the PADD B'Elanna was reading. He knew that no one, not  
even Tom, had any real idea about what she was working on. Speculation ran rampant around  
the ship.  
  
Jenny Delaney had joked that perhaps B'Elanna was writing a torrid Klingon romance novel.  
Ensign Vorik had said something about Vulcans not being curious and then mentioned that the  
Lieutenant had Engineering running stress analysis tests on the warp coil. And Hickman had  
kidded that maybe all she was doing was developing a new formula for coffee for the Captain.  
  
The complex equations that he saw on her PADD before she tilted it away, proved that B'Elanna  
definitely was working on something.  
  
"Good morning, Lieutenant."  
  
B'Elanna turned the PADD over as she glanced up at him. "Neelix?"  
  
"I was wondering if you would like a slice of Harast pie. Ayala said it reminded  
him of banana cream pie. And you are so fond of bananas."  
  
"I'll try it. I'm stuck again."  
  
"Maybe I can help?" Neelix offered as he handed her the plate he was holding.  
  
She stared at it. "Neelix, banana cream pie is yellow. This is bright red."  
  
He shrugged. "The harast fruit is red." He watched as she poked at it then slowly took a bite.  
  
His smile grew at her contented moan. "I'm glad you like it. What are you working on?"  
  
"Hope," she whispered as she took another bite.  
  
"Hope?" She didn't seem inclined to answer any more questions, so he left.  
"Hope?" he repeated to himself as he entered his kitchen and looked around.  
  
He picked up the PADD with the evening's menu. He had to start slicing the  
vegetables soon, but he had something else to do first.  
  
From: Neelix  
Morale Officer & Ambassador, U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Federation President, United Federation of Planets  
cc: Admiral Owen Paris  
Router Heading: Sector 001, Earth; San Francisco  
127984723  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Dear Madam President,  
  
I would like to present myself. I am Neelix of Rinax, a moon of Talax - and Ambassador to the Alpha Quadrant for my people.  
  
I am sure you are asking what reasons would a government that is over seventy-thousand light years from Earth have to send an ambassador so far?  
  
I admit my planet is very far away, but I suspect that in the near future the distance between our homes will become far less significant.  
  
I know Talaxia would welcome the opportunity to meet with a delegation from the United Federation of Planets.  
  
Since I have lived the past six and a third years on the Starship Voyager, I am a logical choice as a mediator between our two worlds. I feel that I understand the rules of both cultures. I have served as Voyager's Ambassador at large for the past 3 years, and am well versed in handling sensitive issues, including the Prime Directive.  
  
I regret that I will not be able to present my credentials in person until, well, I don't know when...But I look forward to meeting with you, and I know Captain Kathryn Janeway will be more than happy to vouch for me.  
  
  
Neelix stopped writing. Just what was he thinking, he wondered? He could easily  
be misinterpreting B'Elanna's cryptic words. And why would the Federation  
President even be interested in the Ambassador from Talaxia? He hadn't been  
appointed by the Talaxian government-his own government probably didn't even  
remember who he was.  
  
He stared at the screen, then hit the save button. He would send it. After dinner.  
  
\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamelia (EMH's letters to prospective publishers)  
> Penny with Rick (Seven of Nine to Captain Picard)  
> jamelia (Tom Paris' letter to Dr. Andersen in New Zealand)  
> fmlyhntr (Neelix's letter to the President of the Federation)


	4. Tuvok, Naomi, and Noah

  
From: Lieutenant Commander Tuvok,  
Chief of Security, U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: T'Meni, daughter of Sek  
Router heading: Sector 001; Vulcan; ShiKahr;  
209110644  
Stardate 54382.5  
  
Greetings T'Meni,  
  
I am Tuvok, son of Sunak and another T'Meni, and father to your father Sek. As your grandfather, the duty lies upon me in equal measure to see to your proper education and upbringing. You are now beginning your seventh year. As I am sure you have been informed, the culmination of this year is the ritual known as the kahs-wan ordeal. It is more than a simple physical endurance; your survival in the desert, alone and unaided, depends as much upon your strength of mind as of body. Your successful completion of this rite of passage is the first step along the path leading to the obligations and responsibilities of a Vulcan adult.  
  
However, it is not to admonish you or to speak of privations and trials to come that I communicate with you today. As you are aware, at the time of your birth I was already no longer on Vulcan. I had vanished years earlier, in a mysterious confluence of events which left most of the denizens of the Alpha Quadrant convinced that we were dead, swept off to a vast distance at which even the marital bond between myself and your grandmother T'Pel was so faint as to be nonexistent. My katra was presumed to have been forever lost. Samok, a disciple of Surok, once asked when we truly cease to exist for those we know and love. Many have erred and assumed the answer lies with physical death and separation, or the cessation of sharing of the flame. But the answer truly can be said to be, as long as we remember the departed, as long as their image remains fresh within our minds, then there is no separation.  
  
My daughter, it is through no choice of my own that I was not present at your birth, that I have missed and continue to miss many important milestones in your young life. We are Vulcan; we do not rail against fate or complain of the gods when life is not to our liking. Cth'ya, we accept what is. Yet at the same time nothing prevents me from telling you that I wish things had been otherwise.  
  
Your father, as well as she who is my wife, keep me informed of your studies. I am pleased to hear of the development of your intellect and of your progress in these and other matters. It appears that you will be well prepared for the challenges of your kahs-wan. I salute you as you near this important occasion.  
  
Live long and prosper, daughter of my house and heart.  
  
Tuvok  
\--  
  
Tuvok deactivated the PADD and placed it carefully on the table beside his  
chair. He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and gazed thoughtfully out of  
the viewport beside him. He pictured his granddaughter reading her letter. T'Pel  
had sent him a holo-image of the child. She favoured her grandmother, and Tuvok  
was pleased by this. Perhaps she would read his letter while visiting with  
T'Pel; his wife's letters implied there was a closeness between them. He  
imagined the two of them, sitting in the garden of his home, a Vulcan sunset  
casting deep rich colours on the stones around them. T'Meni would lean against  
her grandmother and T'Pel would gently stroke the child's soft cheek. Perhaps  
she would speak to T'Meni of Tuvok, her grandfather.  
  
\--  
"Naomi?"  
  
"Naomi. I know you're here."  
  
"Aw Mom, I was just at the good part."  
  
Samantha Wildman peeled off her uniform jacket and tossed it onto the couch as  
she made her way across their living quarters towards her daughter's room. She  
leaned against the doorframe and tried to suppress a yawn. Naomi was sitting up  
in her bed, a large PADD clutched in her hand, a half-finished glass of milk and  
the crumbly remains of a bedtime snack on the table beside her.  
  
"What...?"  
  
"B'Elanna Torres lent me this really neat novel, Mom. All about Klingons and  
honour and Sto-Vo-Kor and stuff..."  
  
"Are you sure you should be reading that at bedtime, Naomi?"  
  
"Aw Mom." Naomi repeated the mantra that seemed to her mother to be a constant  
refrain these days.  
  
Samantha suppressed a frown and went over to her daughter's desk. She picked up  
a PADD that was lying there and glanced at it quickly.  
  
"Did you finish your letter? The datastream is going out soon."  
  
"No, not yet." Naomi replied. "Give it to me and I'll do it right now."  
  
Samantha debated mentioning that it was past her daughter's bedtime and that she  
should have completed the letter hours ago. Instead she approached the bed and  
handed her daughter the PADD in exchange for the one that her daughter still held.  
  
Her reward was immediate and welcome.  
  
"Thanks Mom." Naomi grinned at her.  
  
"Not too late, Naomi." Her mother said and bent down to plant a kiss on her  
daughter's forehead.  
  
"Aw..."  
  
"Mom." Samantha finished for her.  
  
Naomi grinned again.  
  
"Night Mom."  
  
"Good night, Naomi," Sam replied with a smile as she backed out of the door, which  
closed behind her. She sighed. Where was her little girl disappearing to so quickly?  
It seemed only yesterday she spent every spare moment on the holodeck with  
Flotter and Trevis; now it was novels with "good parts." And something that  
B'Elanna had lent Naomi? What sort of novel with "Klingons and honor and Sto-Vo-Kor"  
would B'Elanna want to read? Suddenly curious, Sam flicked on the PADD.  
  
She rolled her eyes and groaned as she read the title, "Bonds of Blood and Passion."  
Terrific. A Klingon romance novel. Just what her 6 year old daughter needed!  
First Tom's 20th century action movie obsession, and now love and death, Klingon style!  
  
Sam shut the PADD off, then hesitated before setting it on the table. She really  
didn't have much planned for this evening, and her own letter to Greskrendtregk  
was already in the data stream queue . . .  
  
Settling herself onto the couch, Sam turned on the PADD to immerse herself for a  
few hours into the romantic adventures and battles of that star-crossed,  
meant-for-each-other pair, Valdis and Graltok.  
\--  
From: Naomi Wildman  
Captain's Assistant  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Greskrendtregk  
Router Heading: Sector 007; Earth  
176322741  
Stardate: 54382.4  
  
Hi Dad,  
  
I'm sorry I haven't written to you in a while, but I know that Mom always tells you what I'm doing.  
  
I'm fine.  
  
I've been really busy recently. Seven of Nine has been letting me help her in the Astrometrics lab and I'm really enjoying that. She doesn't scare me the way she used to - I guess now that we've had so many Borg on board Voyager, I'm kind of getting used to them. As a matter of fact I miss Mezoti and Azan and Rebi - they were the other Borg kids who were with us for a while. They left earlier this year - Captain Janeway found Azan and Rebi's people and we made a special detour to drop them off. Mezoti decided she wanted to go with them. I understand, I think. They had been together for so long that they belonged together. Icheb stayed though. He's the other Borg on Voyager. At least he used to be a Borg. I think he's mostly just a boy now. And I'm glad he stayed. He's my best friend on Voyager. Him and Neelix.  
  
Speaking of Neelix, I had a great time last night. He and I  stayed in the mess hall after the last dinner shift and we made chocolate chip cookies. And just when they were finished the Captain came in. Neelix got out some chocolate ice cream and we had a real feast. The Captain said that I deserve to be her assistant! That anyone who can make chocolate chip cookies like that deserves a promotion!  
  
I've been studying really hard recently. Icheb has been helping me. He's really smart. I'm thinking of taking the Starfleet entrance exams. Don't tell Mom. I think she thinks I'm still just a little girl. But I'm not.  
  
Dad, I wish you'd tell Mom that Ktarians are more mature. It would help if you did. The other night Lieutenant Paris ran his movie program in the holodeck and Mom wouldn't let me go. She said I was too young and that it was too late. Icheb said the movie was archaic and illogical, but entertaining.  
  
I guess that's all for now. I'll try and write more often. Last night the Captain promised we'd get home soon. And I really believe her. So I'm going to say I'll see you soon.  
  
I love you Dad.  
  
Naomi  
  
\--  
  
It was a rare thing to have time alone. And rarer still to know that he had at  
least an hour of it. Both his bunkmates had taken additional duty shifts, trying  
to earn extra replicator rations. They had lost a fair number of them last week  
betting on a shipwide pool tournament. Perhaps, he mused, they should make pool  
one of the events in those upcoming Olympic games. There certainly were enough  
players on board. Maybe he would suggest it to Lieutenant Paris the next time he  
saw him. Or maybe not. He still wasn't quite comfortable enough to try to be  
'one of the guys'. Maybe in time he would feel differently.  
  
But he knew exactly how he planned to spend this precious hour. He cleared a  
space on the couch. His roommates were okay, he thought. But they weren't the  
most organized guys in the cosmos. He pulled a PADD out from under the remains  
of last night's evening snack and activated it.  
  
From: Cwmn. Noah Lessing,  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
To: Miss Hannah Lessing  
Router heading: Sector 001; Luna Colony;  
1862045488  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Dear Hannah,  
  
First of all, honey, it's all right if you want to use your step-father's name. I wish you could see my face instead of just these words so you would know I mean it. I understand, I really do. You're a whole new family now, what with your baby brother and all, and it makes sense that you would want to have the same name as your mother and brother. It doesn't mean you've stopped loving me; it just means that things have changed.  
  
And no, I don't blame your mother at all for getting married again.  
  
Remember, the Equinox had been missing for more than six years before word got back to her that I was alive and on Voyager. She thought I was dead. I'm glad she found a man as good and as  generous as your stepfather to take care of you both. He sent me a letter, did you know that? He told me that he couldn't love you more if you were his own little girl. He knows how lucky he is to have you. It's going to be a long time before I'm back, maybe not until you're all grown up, and I can rest a little easier at night knowing that you and your mom are safe and happy.  
  
So tell your mom and step-father it's okay to go ahead with the adoption if that's what you want. Just promise that you'll keep writing to me. I miss you so much and I think about you all the time. It seems like only yesterday that the doctors let me hold you for the very first time and you looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. Your mother and I were so thrilled with you.  
  
But I shouldn't be talking about your baby years. You're going to be ten years old this month. I told Gramma Rose what I wanted to give you, and she'll see that it's delivered on your birthday. Oh, I wish I could be there. Maybe you could send me a holophoto next time, if there's room in the data stream.  
  
You asked me why I'm only Crewman now instead of an officer. Well, it's a long story and it has to do with some things that happened when I was still on the Equinox. I was so anxious to get home to you and your mother that I did some things that now I wish I hadn't. The important thing is that I learned from my mistakes. It may take us longer to get home, but you'll be proud of me again. I'll tell you all about it sometime, but not today. I want this to be a happy letter.  
  
Life on Voyager isn't too different from life on any starship in the Alpha Quadrant, except that we're out here on our own. And don't worry, I do have fun. The ship's cook is always throwing some kind or party or another, but to be honest I'm not much of a party person and I don't know all the people on Voyager that well. There's an airponics garden and I putter around in that sometimes. And we can use the holodeck when we want to. I don't do that a lot, though; it seems kind of pointless. They're talking about having Olympic Games on the ship and Lt. Paris says everyone is going to have to do something, but I don't know. I'm just trying to keep my head low and get my work done, and I'm getting too old to run the hurdles any more. Maybe I can be a judge or something.  
  
There's a little girl on the ship. Her name is Naomi and she was born on Voyager, but she's part Ktarian so she's about the same size you are. Sometimes she comes to the airponics garden while I'm puttering around and she lets me show her how take care of the plants. I like to pretend a little that she's you, and that we're in the garden behind our house in Atlanta. It's silly, I know, but it makes me feel a little closer to you.  
  
I have to finish up now. Tell you what - at noon on your birthday, you close your eyes and think about me. Because at that same exact moment, I'll be here on Voyager, with my eyes closed, thinking of you. I love you, Hannah, and it doesn't matter what your last name is, you will always be my little girl. I miss you.  
  
Dad.  
  
\--  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocky (Tuvok's letter to his granddaughter T'Meni)  
> Cybermum (Naomi's letter to her father)  
> Penny (Noah's letter to his daughter Hannah)


	5. B'Elanna and the EMH (one more time)

  
From: EMH/ECH  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
Router Heading: Starfleet Command; Earth;  
Luna; Tycho City Data Facility  
CEO  
RealityVisions HoloProductions  
Earthview Office Park  
P.O. Box 70094  
Tycho City, Luna 658-T81  
  
Dear Mr. CEO,  
  
In response to your recent advertisement in the cyberzine "Holographic Adventurer," I wish to offer your company the opportunity to purchase a work of stunning creativity and importance. In my travels as the Chief Medical Officer for the Starship Voyager, I have been able to research this story in my downtime hours. It is very close to my heart (so to speak), as you can well imagine.  
  
This holoprogram is designed to educate, edify, and enrich the spirit of humanoid and holographic beings throughout the Alpha Quadrant. It cannot fail to please you and your program users.  
  
If you are interested in obtaining more information about this program prior to making an offer, feel free to contact me in care of U.S.S. Voyager, c/o Pathfinder Project, Starfleet Command, San Francisco, California, 94103-4774-5437, Terra. Thank you for your consideration.  
  
Very truly yours,  
Mr. EMH  
Emergency Medical Hologram  
U.S.S. Voyager-NCC-74656  
  
  
The Doctor sighed as he submitted the fifth and final letter that the captain was   
allowing him to send through the data stream this month. Having to hold onto the other   
seven letters he wished to send to publishers around the quadrant was painful.   
Every day, his brothers in exile suffered, slaving away on waste barges,   
in mines, and performing tasks completely below their potential to do good   
for all humanoid kind, while he himself enjoyed the benefits of living and working on   
Voyager as a member of its crew. It wasn't fair! He needed to save them!  And he   
knew he was just the hologram to do it.  
  
Of course, perhaps one -- or even all -- of the publishers receiving his letters   
might respond with offers! He may never need to send out his other missives.   
His mood lifted, and the EMH whistled happily before proclaiming, "Transfer program   
to Holodeck 2: the Beyreuth Program."  
  
Yes, that will be perfect. Today, singing along with the Valkyries was   
exactly what the Doctor ordered.  
  
\----  
  
Engineering was quiet. For the moment, anyhow. B'Elanna had been working  
non-stop since the beginning of her shift. There had been a problem with one of  
the warp nacelles and although she had assigned one of her top teams to work on  
the problem, she had spent more time than she anticipated overseeing the  
repairs. One of the subspace field coils had had to be removed from the  
assembly, thoroughly cleaned and replaced in exactly the same position within a  
very short time or it could have been rendered useless by exposure to possible  
containments. She had followed all the correct protocols for sterilization of  
the area, she and the team had been dressed in the appropriate antiseptic garb,  
but, as she constantly reminded them, "You never knew in the damn D.Q."  
  
She did a quick survey of her domain. The shift had finally ended twenty minutes  
ago. The few crewmen who remained, and the members of the much smaller gamma  
shift were working quietly and efficiently at their stations.  
  
B'Elanna scooped up a pile of PADDS that were sitting precariously on the corner  
of Vorik's console and headed towards her own station. She sat down and began to  
sort through them carefully. She divided them into two piles and set one stack  
aside. She activated the first PADD in the second stack and began to read,  
nodding several times as she did.  
  
"Yes," she muttered to herself. "It just might work."  
  
B'Elanna took a fresh PADD from the shelf beside her and activated it.  
  
  
To: Lt. Reginald Barclay,  
SFC, Pathfinder project  
From: Lt. j.g. B'Elanna Torres,  
U.S.S. Voyager  
NCC-74656  
Router heading: Sector 001; Earth; San Francisco.  
127984723  
Stardate 54382.4  
  
Hello, Reg,  
  
Thanks for the latest warp core specs you sent in the last transmission. And thank you for your letter. No, it wasn't too personal. We've traded engineering data and theories several times now, so I consider you a close colleague, and hopefully a friend. I don't have a lot of those back in the Alpha quadrant anymore, so I welcome any I can get. Guess you already know that, since the only person who's written me directly besides you is my uncle on Qon'oS, to tell me about my mother...  
  
Anyway, this woman you mentioned who left a message at Pathfinder headquarters saying she was my cousin--well, I have a few cousins, but none I'm close to at all. Since the message was on an intra-Earth transferal line, she might be someone from my father's side. I have a cousin named Elizabeth. We played together on occasion when I was a child, though I don't know why she'd want to write me. I can't imagine anyone in my father's family wanting to write me. I haven't seen or heard from any of them in well over twenty years. Truthfully, I consider Tom and everyone on Voyager my family now.  
  
Don't be too bothered because the message was deleted. I don't really see any reason to start up a correspondence at this late date, though Tom thinks I should consider it. He needled me about it in fact, even after I shoved him off the couch. I know he was trying to be helpful in his own way, but he just doesn't understand that my family and his are nothing alike.  
  
Okay, I also know he might have a point. And you're probably reading this thinking I should give her a chance too, aren't you? Fine, have it your way. If she contacts Pathfinder headquarters again, I suppose you can put her on the authorized list you mentioned. Sorry about my lack of enthusiasm, but I don't know what we could possibly say to each other after all this time. Besides, she probably contacted Pathfinder on a whim and won't call back anyway, or maybe she had the wrong person altogether.  
  
I hope you don't mind if I change the subject now. I wanted to thank you for something else, Reg--what you wrote about working with Admiral Paris. I know you were just recounting the  project's progress, but it was an eye-opener seeing the Admiral from your perspective (that's what Tom calls him most of the time, only partly in jest, "The Admiral"). He's written to Tom of course, but I'm sure you know Tom and his father have a...complicated history. Their letters to each other have tended to be polite and superficial, unlike the ones Tom has exchanged with his mother or his sisters. I can understand it, since the issues between Tom and his father aren't the kind that can be resolved in letters. They're the kind that won't be put completely to rest until the two of them are able to meet face to face again.  
  
Your account of working with Admiral Paris, and the way his stoic, no-nonsense exterior doesn't hide his fierce dedication to the project and to getting Voyager home--well, let's just say Tom read those particular paragraphs a dozen times. You and I both know--and deep down Tom knows--that Admiral Paris hasn't given up his other Command postings and duties, and devoted nearly every waking hour to the Pathfinder project, all to get one small ship among the many hundreds of ships in the fleet back to Earth. No matter what he may say in public, and despite the fact that getting the rest of us home will be gratifying for him, he's put his heart and soul into this for one reason--to get his son back.   
  
Your words helped me see Admiral Paris a little more clearly too. In his letters he's tacitly welcomed me into his family--as has everyone in Tom's family--but I have to admit I still felt a little doubtful about his response. Now I feel more certain that he does care about Tom's welfare and happiness, deeply. I hope that means he really does accept me, like you said. I don't know many Starfleet admirals who would welcome a half-Klingon ex-Maquis Academy dropout with a quick temper as a daughter-in-law.  
  
Space is more limited than usual for this transmission, so I have to end this letter soon. I do have two favors to ask of you. Can you please tell Admiral Paris that Tom will send a letter to his family next month? This month he felt it important to answer a letter from an old acquaintance.  
  
My other favor has to do with Voyager. I have an idea how we might be able to get the ship home faster. It's in the germinal stage right now, and I don't want to get anyone's hopes raised too much, so please keep this between us for the moment. With the captain's permission I'm sending you some raw data. When you see it I think you'll understand where I'm going.   
  
To go any further though, I need your help. Can you send me whatever research you can find on the latest warp field generation material bonding techniques? I'd be grateful if you could send the information in the next transmission. Also, it would be helpful if you could commandeer the Lunar Very Large Array and search for any Type 4 neutron stars in Voyager's expected flight path--preferably ahead of us by about a thousand light years, and within a cylindrical segment of our flight path by a hundred light years. I know it's a lot to ask, but it could make a difference of fifteen or twenty years in our journey home, or maybe more.  
  
Thanks again, Reg, for everything. Good luck with that patent application and with your new apartment. Feel free to write me again, or Tom, or anyone on Voyager. Even the captain. She can't say enough good things about you. Believe me, you're everyone's hero here, and the first person whose hand we all want to shake when we get home.  
  
Take care,  
  
B'Elanna Torres  
  
\--  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juli17ptf with Rick (B'Elanna)  
> jamelia (the EMH, one more time)


	6. Epilogue

 

  
Epilogue  
  
The monthly exchange through the datastream proceeded smoothly as usual, and  
shortly the final part of the process was underway. In fact, Harry was just  
about finished with his rounds. This particular duty, which he'd taken on a few  
months earlier, ranked as one of his favorites.  
  
As much as he enjoyed filtering and interpreting data, in this case he was now  
happy to let Seven focus on decrypting the official Starfleet transmission while  
he helped Neelix deliver the personal letters that had come through the datastream.  
  
The best part about delivering the letters was seeing the reactions on the faces  
of his crewmates and friends. Joe Carey's open delight at the monthly letter  
from his wife and sons, Captain Janeway's smile of anticipation at the letter  
from her sister, Karen Jarvis's quiet pleasure at the letter from her fiancé, who  
had waited for her and was determined to keep doing so for as long as it took,  
Tom's casual acceptance of a letter from his parents that didn't quite hide his  
eagerness to read it, Tuvok's impassive response to his letter from home that was  
no more believable than Tom's feigned indifference-they were just a few of the hundred-  
thirty something reactions that greeted him each month. He loved watching them all.  
  
The delivery rounds generally took him from an hour to two hours to complete,  
depending on the number of letters received, and how many minutes he passed  
chatting with this crewmate or the other. Neelix handled the large group of  
off-duty crew who always gathered in the mess hall, while Harry took care of  
those currently on duty. Over the past hour and forty minutes he'd worked his  
way through the ship in his usual pattern, from the top-the bridge-all the way  
down to engineering. Now he had only one letter left in his possession, besides  
the letter from his parents that he planned to read after his shift while he  
relaxed with a hot cup of Darjeeling tea.  
  
Harry spotted his final recipient in the far corner of engineering-or at least  
part of her, in the form of one boot protruding from the entrance of a Jeffries  
tube-exactly where Mulcahy had said she'd be. He called out in greeting as he  
approached, "Hey, Maquis."  
  
B'Elanna mumbled something-probably a curse-as she repositioned herself in the  
tight confines. Then she stuck her head out of the Jeffries tube. "Hey, Starfleet."  
  
Harry held out a PADD. "This last letter's for you."  
  
He could tell from her expression that she wasn't expecting a letter, though she  
looked curious as she took the PADD from him.  
  
"Reg?" he asked as she activated the display. B'Elanna and Reg Barclay had been  
exchanging technical information and "talking" engineering back and forth for  
several months now.  
  
B'Elanna stared mutely at the display for several moments, her expression one of  
mild astonishment. Finally, she shook her head. "It's from my uncle."  
  
"The one on Qo'noS?" Harry knew that uncle-K'nar, or something like that-had  
sent B'Elanna confirmation of her mother's death a couple months ago.  
  
B'Elanna nodded slowly. "He wants to know about my life here."  
  
"That's great," Harry replied, though he couldn't tell from B'Elanna's bemused  
frown if she was pleased about it or not. Still, he was glad someone in her family  
wanted to keep in touch with her.  
  
B'Elanna shrugged, though her effort at nonchalance was less than convincing.  
"I'll read it later," she said gruffly as she shut off the PADD. Then she gave  
Harry a crooked smile. "So, are you still mad at me?"  
  
It took Harry a second to realize that she was talking about the datastream. He  
shook his head. "I was never mad, exactly." Just a little disappointed that he'd  
had to put off his video letter. "But I am curious to know why you needed so  
much space this month."  
  
"I'm working on a...theory," B'Elanna said, being evasive again. "But as soon as  
I figure out if it's viable, I promise I'll tell you all about it."  
  
Harry decided to wheedle a little. "I don't suppose you want to give me just a  
little hint about your mystery theory?"  
  
B'Elanna cocked her head. "You want to get home faster, don't you?"  
  
Harry's eyebrows rose. Something to do with propulsion then. "How much faster?"  
  
B'Elanna grinned. "A whole lot faster, Harry."  
  
He was all in favor of that possibility. "You know I'll do anything I can to help."  
  
"Don't worry, when-if-the time comes, I'll take you up on that offer. Now,  
I've got to get back to work." Clearly having said all she was going to say,  
B'Elanna set the PADD containing her uncle's letter aside- carefully, Harry  
noticed-and disappeared back into the Jeffries tube.  
  
The idea of getting home much faster than the twenty-five or more years still  
facing them put a spring in Harry's step, added to the one that was always there  
on the day the letters arrived through the datastream. Getting home had always  
been the crew's top priority, and it still was. In the meantime, their regular  
contact with the Alpha quadrant brought them all a great measure of comfort.  
True, the contact was long distance in the most literal meaning of the word, and  
it wasn't the same as physically being with their families and friends back  
home. As the "next best thing" though, it was pretty darned good.  
  
Harry passed several engineers he'd spoken with a few minutes earlier. Some of  
them were still avidly reading the letters he'd delivered, and he smiled at a  
job once again completed to his immense satisfaction. Then he left engineering  
and headed back to his regular post on the bridge, whistling a low tune all the way.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> julie 17ptf (Prologue and Epilogue)  
> Interludes were co-written by everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. We don't. You know the rest by now.


End file.
